Blind Diddly Dates
by Channel D
Summary: Ziva and Jenny both have dates for the Valentine's Day Charity Ball. Who? Crossover with The Simpsons, oh my. Written for the NFA So That's Your Date to the Valentine's Day Charity Ball challenge. Oneshot.


**Blind Diddly Dates  
**by channelD

_written_ for the NFA _That's Your Date to the Valentine's Day Charity Ball???_ Challenge. The goal of the challenge was to pair up an NCISer with someone "completely bizarre."  
_rating: K  
__genre:_ humor/romance  
_characters_ Ziva, Jenny, and their dates from _The Simpsons_

- - - - -

_Disclaimer:_ I own nothing of either NCIS nor The Simpsons; just my memories of great episodes.

- - - - -

"Your blind date for the Valentine's Day Charity Ball said he'd pick you up here? At _NCIS_?" Tony looked somewhere between astonished and amused. He ignored the stern look Gibbs was giving him. It was Friday, the end of the workday, and of course Tony had hung around merely to check out Ziva's date, pretending to do some work.

"Yes, Tony; that is what I said. " Ziva sighed and looked in a small hand mirror, wondering if she should go back to the ladies' room to check herself and her long red dress in the full-length mirror. It would only be the seventh time she'd done so in the last 20 minutes. She didn't often dress up, and she wanted to look just right. "What is wrong with a gentleman picking a lady up?"

"Nothing, except he'd have to be an infuriatingly cheerful type to willingly go through all that security, and—"

"Hey diddly ho!" called an exceedingly cheerful voice. Ziva, Tony and Gibbs turned to the sound. The grinning man was getting the security accompaniment by Tim, who was having a hard time keeping his laughter down.

"You must be Miss Ziva David! Ned Flanders, at your diddly service!" He bowed low and came up grasping Ziva's hand lightly, blowing over her fingers with an air kiss, and making her giggle.

Another man, also in a tux (a bit threadbare) and a visitor's badge, stood with them, but where his friend was exuberant, he was quiet. "Come on; I'll take you up to the Director's office," Tim offered the other man, who squared his shoulders and nodded.

"No need, Tim; I'm right here." Jenny came out of the elevator, looking stunning in a black lamé gown. "You must be Seymour."

"Principal Seymour Skinner," he said, with a bow not nearly as neat as Flanders'. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Jennifer. Shall we go? I hate to leave Mother in the car for too long."

Jenny looked like she'd swallowed ink. "Your…mother is coming with us, Seymour? To the ball? On our _date_?"

"She hates to be left home alone. I might come back and find my slippers gnawed, or the kitchen floor—"

"Let's go then," Jenny said, paling, and taking his arm.

"We're all in one diddly car," said Flanders. "Hope you all don't mind! Seymour's car is in the repair shop."

"I'm sure that will be fine," said Jenny. "We can all get to know each other better."

"Mother will insist on sitting in the middle," said Skinner. "She says seeing scenery makes her carsick."

Jenny did throw one _help me_ glance back at Gibbs, who was smirking in apparent delight.

- - - - -

Flanders' car was easy to spot on the street; it was the one with an old woman in the back seat, shaking her fist at every passing sailor, Marine, dog, squirrel, and blowing leaf. "Seymour!" she bellowed when the doors were opened, "You sit back here with me. You can put your head in my lap if you're tired."

"Mother, I am not tired, and Jennifer is going to join us, so please take your purse off the seat."

"There's no room," Mrs. Skinner insisted. "She can ride in the trunk."

_"Mother!"_

Flanders gallantly held the front passenger door open for Ziva, after first picking a miniscule piece of lint off the car floor. "Here you diddly-iddly go, Miss Ziva," he said. "Next stop: Charity Ball-diddly-land."

- - - - -

The hotel where the ball was to be held was not far away, to Jenny's and Ziva's relief. After letting the parking lot guard take Flanders' car away, they handed their tickets to the reception desk, and found a table for four.

_Four?? _Ziva grabbed Skinner's arm. "Seymour, where is your mother??"

"I left her in the car. She can see lots of things to shake her fist at; that'll keep her happy. Can we get you ladies some drinks?"

"Bourbon for me, thank you, Seymour," said Jenny.

"I would like white wine, or whatever you are drinking, Ned," Ziva said with a smile.

"That's jim-diddly-dandy, Miss Ziva," Flanders beamed. "I'll surprise you!"

When their dates had left, Jenny leaned toward Ziva. "Where again did you find these clowns?" she hissed.

"They are people Abby knows," Ziva said sourly. "She said they were fun-loving bachelors, from a town…well, I am not sure where it is."

"Fun-loving? Seymour?" Jenny echoed. "He has the proverbial principal's stick up his butt. He wouldn't know humor if his students gave him a wedgie!"

"Oh, I think he is charming," Ziva laughed. "Now, Ned—he is, ah, one-of-a-kind."

"I certainly hope so," Jenny shuddered, then plastered on a smile as their dates returned with the drinks.

"Your bourbon, Jennifer," said Skinner, who, after handing it to her, sat down with a matching drink.

Flanders smiled, lifting the corners of his moustache. "And for the lovely Miss Ziva—my specialty: the Nederino!"

The drink he placed before her was lavender in color, with some small brown things and green things swirling in it. It looked revolting. "Er…it is…_different_, Ned. What is in it?"

Ned laughed. "If I told you, Miss Ziva, it wouldn't be a secret!...Oh, well; I'll tell you. I can't refuse a pretty woman. It's ground maraschino cherries, chopped green grapes, slivered dark chocolate, pineapple juice, ginger ale, and don't tell my pastor, but a spoonful of that old demon rum."

Ziva couldn't help smiling. Ned had a sweet innocence about him. She sipped the drink with a little less fear now. It was very sweet, but not too bad. Could have used more rum. Ned could use more substance. All in all, things weren't too bad.

- - - - -

The band struck up a catchy tune, and Skinner and Jenny went out onto the dance floor, leaving Ziva alone with Flanders. "You are such a, ah, nice man; I cannot believe you are not married," Ziva said boldly. In truth, she wanted to be sure of his status before she invested more interest in him.

"I was married," he said sadly, "but now I am a poor diddly widow man. My Maudie's in the Lord's arms now."

"I am sorry," Ziva said sincerely. "Have you any children?"

"Two cute little boys. Rod and Todd. They are the diddly joy of my life."

_Rod, Todd, and Maude,_ Ziva thought. _That is almost spooky._

"We'd hoped to have a third child, but it was not to be. We'd have named him—"

" 'Claude?' "

"Why, yes! How did you know?"

"What else could it have been?"

"Well, my Maude thought of 'Steven', but I said to her, 'Who diddly names their diddly little baby _that_? Have you ever known anyone named 'Steven'?"

"Well, actually—"

"It must have her, ah, hormones acting up. How about you, Miss Ziva? You're too pretty a maid to be sitting on the shelf."

"Sitting on the—" She wanted to ask him what it meant, but was afraid the answer would have a 'diddly' in it somewhere. "I have never married, if that is what you mean. I believe the phrase you busy Americans use is, 'married to one's job'."

"Oh, yes. You are a federal agent. A special agent. You like that life of danger?"

"The danger is not why I like it, but I believe I serve a purpose."

"I'm sure you do, Miss Ziva. And you must be very brave to do it: tracking down criminals, carrying a gun, memorizing all those Navy and Marines ranks and insignia…" He grinned.

She grinned back, liking the sight of the cheerful eyes behind the thick glasses. "But that is not what you are looking for in a woman."

His smile dimmed a little. "I have my little boys to think of, Miss Ziva. They've already lost one mother. I can't bring a second one in to their lives, if it means risking another loss."

_Strange the turns that life takes. If I had chosen a different path…_ Ziva smiled and put her hand over his. "I understand. And I am sure that the woman you are looking for is out there. It is only a matter of time before you find her, or she finds you."

"Aw, shuckerinos. That's sweet of you to say, Miss Ziva. I hope you're diddly right,"

- - - - -

The music was not so loud that Skinner and Jenny couldn't talk on the dance floor. "I don't think I could do your job, Jennifer," said Skinner. "Managing a couple thousand agents, facing enemy threats, monitoring military intelligence…"

She laughed. "But you manage a couple hundred elementary school children, face threats from your school board, and monitor teacher intelligence. No, I think your job must be _much_ harder. I'll take mine any day."

He pulled her closer."Jennifer…may I call you 'Jenny'?"

"Most people do. That, or 'Madam Director', though I won't hold you to that." Her eyes crinkled. Despite all odds, this nerdy small-city principal was becoming appealing to her.

"Jenny, I feel an attraction between us, and I'm not one to make snap judgments. I'd like to see you again. But—"

"But?"

"But, uh…I really, really have a big favor to ask of you. You might not like it. I could date you for months before asking it of you, but I'd have to do it, sooner or later, or I'd burst. So I'd better ask it of you now, and not waste your time with me, if it's going to make you mad."

"Good heavens, Seymour; what _is_ it?"

He took a deep breath. "Could you participate in a school assembly about NCIS? I have a couple of students…_one Bart Simpson, especially_…who could benefit by being scared to death."

She threw her head back and laughed. "I like the way you think, Seymour. I'd be delighted. Would you like me to bring my collection of sigs?"

"Those are guns, right? Bring them all. To heck with the school board. This will be our time to have a little fun."

- - - - -

The ball was over too soon. The men helped Jenny and Ziva into their coats, and they made another donation to the charity.

At Flanders' darkened car, Skinner went to rap on the door to wake up his mother. That was the instant that Flanders electronically unlocked the car, and the interior lights came on. Mrs. Skinner wasn't alone! Her companion, the hotel lot security guard, ran out the other door and into the night.

"_Mother_! Not again!"

"Oh, come on, Seymour; we were just making out. I'm old, not _dead_."

Now Jenny realized why Skinner had never married. _There must be a solution…_

- - - - -

"So, how did your date with the McGeek double go?" Tony asked Ziva Monday morning at NCIS.

"What double? Flanders? That guy? I don't see the resemblance." Tim snorted.

"He was very sweet. Very, very sweet. If things were different, we might have had a future. His religion is very important to him, as mine is to me. I do not think it would matter to him that I am Jewish."

"So…?"

She thought, and smiled. Tony didn't need to be told everything. "He has two children. I am not sure I am ready to be a mother."

He gave her a disgusted look. "You women! One date and you're already planning marriage! You should have given the poor guy a chance." He turned and walked away.

Ziva chuckled. Now, before she forgot it, she should get on the 'net and find out just what 'diddly' meant.

- - - - -

In her office, Jenny arranged fresh flowers in a vase. So many relationships of hers had gone nowhere. She was going to work hard on this one.

Top on her list of things to do this week: Introduce Agnes Skinner to Victoria Mallard. If the two hit it off, she was sure they could share an apartment in a retirement community. Ducky…and dear Seymour…would eternally be in her debt.

- END -


End file.
